Surrealism
by Kristoffer Roux
Summary: Harry wakes up in his dormitory and he surprisingly finds Tom Riddle with a cup of coffee in his hands sitting beside his bed. HP6.


On a groggy Friday morning, I was awoken by the sun that passed through my window. In an instant, I rubbed my eyes and proceeded to stand; however, something stopped me. I had a visitor, a surprising one, in fact. It was someone who would never expect because then, he was Tom Riddle, my supposedly arch-nemesis. Pretty much, I was appalled on why he was here, sitting on a chair, gladly observing me, with a cup of coffee on his hands. I tried punching myself a bunch of times, but no matter what I do or did, he was still there, smiling like a lunatic.

"What's so funny?" I tried to ask, getting up from my bed.

"You're hurting yourself. In my opinion, that's a worthless thing to do." I was about to stand up, but he stopped me. "Harry, you're sick. You're not feeling well, so for Salazar's sake, stop exhausting yourself for no reason at all."

"I am not-" He put his hand on my forehead. I never thought it would be warm. I thought he was a ghost, that he was just a mere illusion in my brain, but it was real. It felt so real, but it was also-

"See what I was trying to say? Now, just sit up, and get some rest."

"Why are you doing this?" I retorted. "You're my arch-nemesis, you killed my parents-"

"I didn't. Lord Voldemort did, but I killed my father already. _There's a difference_," he spited.

"You're really Tom Riddle, aren't you? What are you doing here beside my bed? And you're Slytherin. You don't belong here." He raised his eyebrows, and drank his coffee.

He didn't answer for a few moments, and then he stood up, looking at the window. "To tell you the truth, I don't know either. I just find myself in here, staring at your pathetic and sick figure, so I conjured a cup of coffee because I was thirsty."

He looked at me, and sat on his chair. I glanced at my surroundings, realizing that Riddle took care of me. "Why did you take care of me?"

"I actually despised myself for it, but you couldn't just stop coughing. And if I wouldn't do something about it, then the noise would only do nothing but to irritate me," he said those words so simply that I thought-

"This is nothing but a dream, Harry. I'm just a mere illusion of your brain. Truth be told, I don't like you. I hate you to the very being of my core, but I found out moments before that I couldn't leave this room." He looked at his surroundings and finally, at me.

"Why not? You're Tom Riddle, for Merlin's sake. You could do anything you want," I replied.

"I could not. This is your dream, Harry. You may control everything, but not me. For some specific reason, I was put in here by your unordinary mind." He heaved a sigh. "Stop talking, Harry. Stop disturbing me. It's good for you."

He grabbed a book, reading it, and ignored me all the way.

Truth enough, there were many questions that perked my curiosity, and so I began to ask him. "Why are you here?"

"I already said I don't know," he replied indifferently.

"Why did you take care of me?"

"Because I have no choice," he replied, his eyes unwavering.

"You have a choice, and I don't know why you're in here with me. You're my arch-nemesis. You would have killed my parents, and everyone in the Wizarding World someday."

"I don't know either."

I stood up. I had enough of it. None of my questions had been answered by this stupid guy, and addition to that, he was ignoring me.

"Why did you not try to kill me?" I said in a harsh tone. I put my anger in my eyes. I could only hope if he could see right through them.

He put back the book he was reading on the desk, and stood up, eyes leveled with mine. "You know something, Harry? I don't know a thing, and I have no idea as to why I'm here. It's your brain to be blamed, not me. I've already answered your questions about a million times already, and that really irks me to no extent. Your question about I didn't try to kill you? I tried, I did. I even thought about it, and seeing as that you're my enemy, shouldn't I try to get closer to you? I just couldn't kill you right now because mainly, it was too easy for me to do."

It was pretty obvious that he was frustrated with me, that I had to use my circular reasoning again, but if this was a dream, then why must it feel so real? Why do I feel sick? Why even if I hurt myself, I couldn't wake up from the harsh reality? Why is the past-Lord Voldemort here? Why was he being ungodly kind? It feels so wrong. Everything is new.

He raised his eyebrows at me, expecting an answer.

"So you're not really evil..."

"I will soon be. So you say, in your world, that I've become Lord Voldemort, I killed your parents and somebody else's parents. Therefore, I can say with my utmost confidence that I'm evil," he stated as though it was obvious. He changed his tone into a somewhat more-Riddle like.

I swallowed and looked away from him. I didn't want to continue the topic any longer. Riddle was evil? Really? But he took care of me. If he said was true, then that really doesn't make him completely evil. He didn't even kill me. He saw that I was suffering, so he saved me from it. Or maybe he took care of me just because I was sick, and that I reminded him of his past self?

"What are you smirking about? Talking to yourself? That's a sign you're going mad."

"Well, what I do realize, _Tom_, is that you're nice. The world just made what you are. No one tried to show you compassion, on what love's really like. So that's what made you, _Voldemort_. In other words, that's what made you evil, twisted." It was the first time I've called him by his first name. Usually, that name should've sounded like it's pure of hatred and evil, but not now. Tom took care of me. He changed my view.

He looked away from my eyes. He must be thinking that I was right.

"Harry, you have to wake up. I've already suffered enough in here. So wake up, Harry, wake up." He forced me in the bed, entrusting the covers on my body. I stared at his eyes, those jade sparkling eyes. Eyes that are like his. Eyes that are similar to mine. Tom must be in a lot of pain, and no one helped him overcome it.

"Get some sleep. I don't want to see you ever again, I don't ever want to remember that this has happened," he then said and turned away from my direction.

_He wasn't evil, right? _

"You aren't evil, right, Tom?"

But he didn't answer.


End file.
